Making Amends
by CliosLibrarian
Summary: In Neverland. Henry is rescued and they have a way home, but Hook is injured during an ambush and Emma is forced to separate from the rest of the group to take him to safety. They spend the night hidden in a cave, tending wounds, and waiting to go home. And Fluff/Comfort/And of course Smut ensue.


**This one-shot got away from me...based on a prompt...fluff/comfort/smut. I don't own these characters, yada, yada...enjoy!**

"Back already Princess?" Hook greeted her, his voice laced with sarcasm. Needling her was always a nice distraction, even more so with an arrow now sticking out of his chest.

He was in the exact position that she had left him in, but had grown even more grumpy in her short absence, if that was even possible. They had gotten separated from the group during a skirmish with the Lost Boys, and he had thrown himself in front of her in time to catch an arrow in his left shoulder. She had managed to knock the brat out when he came closer to crow about injuring Hook, and then she had dragged a very pissed off pirate towards the rocks and up into the mountain, muttering curses.

Her parents and Henry were safely back at the ship, cloaked and protected by her own spell, which had been the whole point of the mission. Regina and Gold had put on quite a fireworks show when Hook got hit, distracting the enemy while she got Hook out of harms way. She didn't look back, knowing that they would head back to the ship when they were clear, following protocol. She had hidden Hook in a cave once she was sure they had put enough distance behind them, also drawing the hell brats away from where the Roger was moored, just in case. Henry is safe. Henry is safe. She had seen his little wave herself, as he and her parents disappeared behind the cloak, her bright pink forcefield flashing as it enveloped them. Hook had teased her lightheartedly about the color of her magic many times, much to her chagrin. Now about that pirate...

"I never left...just went to gather some supplies...and to make sure we weren't followed. It's too dark already to go back to the ship tonight...", she admitted, voice trailing off at the end sheepishly.

"Yes, I believe that's what I said."  
"Lets not, ok?" She snapped, despite her feelings of guilt, tired of arguing with him. She just wanted to hold Henry in her arms again. If he would let her that is. For the last two days as they trekked back to the ship, she and Regina and Mary Margaret had practically smothered Henry with what he was calling "attack hugs", and he was starting to get a little aggravated.

She smiled at the thought and emptied her arms of the wood she had gathered and then took off her backpack and jacket and laid them on the ground next to Hook, baring her arms in the process since she only had a tank top underneath. She pretended that she didn't notice his frank appraisal of her body, ignoring his roving eyes, even as they settled on her cleavage. It did not escape her notice that his eyes and his innuendos had gotten steadily bolder in the last two days, but never in front of Henry, which she was grateful for. He was throwing down the gauntlet, and she found that she was more amused by it than it was proper to be. David certainly wasn't amused by it.

She was glad that their light was limited, dusk having set in quickly. Dropping to her knees, she set down the strips of cloth that she had wetted in a stream onto her jacket, and then reached into the bag and drew out a multi-tool. She turned away from him a bit to pile up the wood on the ground beside them. He reached out to grab a wet strip of cloth and began cleaning the area around his wound. When he was done he turned to her again, and she struggled with something to say to distract them both. His eyes were wandering again and he was dangerously close, and she was feeling just a bit too raw for that.

He had come back for her. He had found Henry. He had kept all of his promises. Now as soon as they could get back to the ship, he was taking them back to Storybrooke, with a little help from an old pixie friend. It was all too much to process, knowing that her current reality was the stuff of dreams and legends. For an ugly duckling from the wrong side of the tracks, this was all like some crazy, tequila-induced dream. Except it was her life.

"Thank god for Mary Margaret" she exclaimed suddenly, holding up the tool between them like it was a treasure, sliding out the serrated knife. She started shaving off pieces of splintered wood for kindling. She then slid out another flat compartment, and started striking it with a stick in rapid succesion. She actually yipped a little in delight when the fire caught and started smoking, smiling victoriously when his eyes widened at the flickering flames and the corner of his mouth curved up, impressed.

"Flint as well? That device is quite handy...what is it?"  
"Oh, it's just a Swiss Army knife..."

"May I?" He asked, curiously reaching out and grabbing it from her without waiting for a response, his fingers lingering a bit too long as he removed the tool from her hand, stroking his thumb down her palm. She felt a shiver race up her arm straight to her neck.

"Be my guest", she deadpanned as she turned away and made a show of rearranging the wood with a poking stick, as though making sure that it wouldn't go out. There were things she needed to say, apologies to make, wounds to deal with. She was stalling and she knew it.

He slowly opened the knife up, looking at each tool in turn and evaluating its function. She smiled at his focused concentration, but strove to hide it before clearing her throat to get his attention, her hand stretching out. He handed it back to her with some reluctance, almost pouting. Boys and their toys.

She shuffled forward, still on her knees, and moved closer to where he lay propped against the cave wall. Avoiding his eyes, Emma lifted the tatters of his bloody shirt to get a better look at his wound.

"This is going to have to come off...", she mumbled offhand, not really talking to him, as she braced his arms. He smirked at her, but let the opportunity for comment pass. She grimaced at him then, taking it as a mark of how much pain he was really in. She leaned him forward slowly and his head came down to rest on her shoulder as she rose up on her knees and looked behind him at where the exit point should be. She started when she felt him nuzzle into her neck, breathing in deeply, shamelessly. She rolled her eyes but said nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his touch was affecting her. Get a grip Emma, she scolded herself. Not the time. Wounded pirate.

At her silent appraisal, he gritted out, "It's not all the way through is it." His breath was hot on her skin, and her eyes went heavenward for a different reason this time, as if asking the gods to help her keep it together. Her traitorous body was warming by the second.

She looked down at his back and sighed as she realized what she was going to have to do, a plan forming. She suddenly felt a little sick to her stomach. "Of course not, because that seems to be how our luck is running today...can you sit up on your own for a sec?".

He merely grunted in response, putting his right hand on the floor to steady himself, and gingerly applied some weight against the curve of his Hook, schooling his face as he kept his balance. She picked up the tool again and flipped out the mini scissors. She took care to avoid the the wound site and proceeded to cut him out of the shirt, exposing his chest. Then, she worked the rest of the shirt off his other arm. After she was done, she sat back on her feet to give him a moment, her eyes taking in his top half.

Now that his torso was exposed, he felt a moment of dread as her eyes studied the wound and then wandered to the device and the straps that held his hook in place. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He made an impatient noise and smirked when her eyes snapped to his again.

"Don't stop with the shirt love, things were just getting interesting..." He said as he winked at her saucily. Ah, there was her pirate. Wait, she thought. Not MY pirate...glad that she hadn't said it aloud.

"Is this really a good time to flirt?"  
"It's always a good time to flirt with you Swan. You might even call it an occupation."

To his surprise, she smiled at him then, almost fondly, and chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. He took it as a victory. And then just as suddenly, she was back to being serious, angling her head to examine the wound. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and sighed heavily, completely unaware of how the sound shot straight to his groin. "We need to get the arrow out of you and seal the wound." She then nodded, more to herself than to him, as if resolving herself.

"How do you propose to do that? " he said hoarsely, his eyes still on her mouth.  
"You aren't going to like it."  
His eyes flicked up then, taking in her grim expression and then said, "Be a love and hand me the rum."

She quickly got to work, gathering her supplies. He sipped some rum from his flask and then splashed some on his wound for good measure, hissing as it burned his flesh. Then he watched with some confusion as she drew her gun slowly out of its holster. She withdrew the clip, and released a single bullet into her palm, eyeing him carefully. She then switched the tool to the pliers position and set to work pulling the back of the bullet off. It took several tries to do it, the bullet and then the tiny tool each slipping through her fingers. When she got it open and started dismantling the delicate parts onto her palm, her plan finally dawned on him.

"You can't be serious!" He hissed at her, incredulous. "No Swan, we will just wait until first light and head back to the ship. We will deal with it then."  
"No, it can't wait that long and besides...it's not like we have a doctor waiting when we get there anyway. It could get infected. You can't walk all the way back to the ship with an arrow sticking out of your chest. If we run into trouble again..."

He raised a brow at her, giving her a sideways glare. He knew she was right, but cringed and started to argue anyway. But she held a hand up.

"It's either this or I could always try my magic..."  
"No!", he yelled, startling her and then he took a breath and softened his tone. "No offense lass, but even good magic has a price."

Her response started softly, "I think you paid the price already...you took that arrow for me." He was dumbstruck, unable to speak at the sudden shift in her mood. Her expression was almost grave as she looked at him then, bared open, eyes shining. "Thank you for that by the way. I shouldn't have hesitated. You tried to warn me they weren't really children anymore, but I just couldn't...I put us all in danger."

"Apology accepted. But no magic, okay?" He interjected brusquely, saving her from her discomfort.

She nodded reluctantly, wanting to say more. "Okay. So, I'll just finish getting everything ready?"

"Will this really work Swan?" He said, looking skeptically at the tiny pile of gunpowder she was now staring down at, pushing it around in her hand until it was in a little line.

"In theory..." She said quietly, not looking up.  
"Ah, so I take it you have never done this before."  
"Ah no...but I saw it in a movie once."  
"One of your world's moving pictures was it?" He asked, bemused.

She had the gall to smile up at him then, brightly, and shrugged her shoulders, gesturing her hands as though balancing a scale, indicating it was his choice.

"Very well."

Things progressed quickly from there. She brought up the sharp knife of the tool and used it to cut the arrow's tail off, leaving a small section jutting out of the wound. She then apologized as she started to cut a groove in the arrow, just a mere inch from his skin. He watched her like a hawk, supervising her progress, his breathing getting heavier as the arrow moved around, disturbing the wound. She then carefully took the powder and filled the groove up to the hilt.

"Try not to move."  
"Not a inch." He assured her, eyes on the gun powder.

She picked up the gun again, with the clip still out and set it on his lap for easy access. She then bent over the fire, lighting a long thin stick like a candle, bringing it closer to their bodies with care.

"You ready for this?"  
"No...but lets do it anyway..." he joked, letting a nervous laugh of bravado escape before looking at her very intently. Finally, he nodded. She nodded back, and scooted as close to him as she could get, surprising him by parting his knees with one of hers, sitting down ever so slightly on his left thigh. She lifted her right hand and got it into position behind his back flexing her fingers in preparation.

"Okay...on three..." She said, and looked him in the eyes one more time. He was looking back at her with such an earnest expression of affection and trust, it was hard for her to breathe suddenly. Completely on impulse, she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips, quick as a snake.

At his startled expression, she explained simply, "For luck." and before he could make any kind of response she brought the flame to the arrow quickly. She heard him gasp, and she sucked in a breath, their eyes widening as they watched the powder sizzle and flare up more quickly than expected. And with a larger flame.

"Three!" She shouted, picking up the gun. She slammed the flat side of the gun against the arrow, pushing it through his body, cringing at the wet popping noise it made as it breached the skin on his back. The howl of pain that he let out was gut wrenching, and as soon as she had enough of the arrow to grip she lifted up higher on her knees and pulled it out of his back quickly, a sob escaping her in sympathy. He grunted loudly and she felt his full weight sag into her as she threw the arrow to the other side of the cave as though it would explode. She held him up and close to her, pressing her right hand to the exit wound, as if she could stopper the pain that way.

"Hook, are you okay? Answer me...Killian, please!"  
"What?"  
"Oh thank god..."

He straightened up suddenly in her arms and leaned back against the cave wall to look at her, his breathing still coming raggedly. She leaned down to look at the wound from the front, and sure enough, it wasn't bleeding anymore. She smiled and lifted her eyes to his. He smiled back through his haze, his voice full of wonder when he said, "You called me Killian." She blushed and then smirked at him, rolling her eyes, "Well, that's your name isn't it?" "Indeed it is...Emma" he said, drawing her name out slowly, his voice several octaves lower. She shuddered then, heat pooling in her center, just as she realized that she was still holding him, while practically sitting in his lap, jeans flush against leather, as he lowered his gaze to her mouth and licked his lips.

And suddenly those lips brushed hers, soft as a whisper. She gasped and he took the opportunity to reach up and grasp her by the back of the neck, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against hers as the flat side of his hook pressed into a bare space on her upper back, making her moan at the cold sensation of metal. He growled in response, bringing his lips back to hers again, with no intention of stopping this time. And she realized with utter clarity that she didn't want him to stop. Ever. And right now she couldn't come up with one reason why they should stop.

He made a little noise of surprise as she kissed him back with equal fervor, then captured his bottom lip lightly in her teeth pulling back slowly as she stared into his eyes, leaving no room for misunderstanding. The hunger she saw there made her heart skip a beat. He groaned as he shifted his body forward and captured her lips again, his tongue delving into her mouth at last, tangling with hers boldly, as his grip tightened until she was pressed flush against his body. Quickly, their kisses became more desperate, pausing only to take breaths before returning again, feasting on each other, stoking an inner flame. She felt hot and heady, and taking the initiative, she broke from his mouth and started kissing a wet line up his jaw towards his ear, and then back under it down his neck to his collarbone. His soft murmurs encouraging her to continue, reassuring her that he had a handle on the pain, his voice strained for a multitude of reasons.

She gently pushed him back against the cave wall as her head dipped lower, leaving lazy kisses against his chest and she moved her right leg from between his knees to the outside of his left one, straddling him completely now, and he let out a groan of pure pleasure. Not to be outdone for long, his hand suddenly snuck up the front of her shirt gliding up her stomach. He ran his hand up until he was stopped by her bra, then pressed his hand beneath, cupped her right breast and dragged his thumb forcefully across her nipple. She rewarded him with a long pleased sigh.

He let his hook glide lower down her back, pressing her down onto him as he shifted his hips up to grind into her, raising the stakes yet again. She moaned out loud at the pressure, closing her eyes. It was too much, and not enough...she wanted more. She wanted to make all of his pain go away. She wanted to heal every inch of his skin, every scar, every hurt. She pushed him back suddenly, eyes glowing, her lips zeroing in on his wound and she felt an incredible heat reaching up through her throat and out her mouth onto his skin.

He tensed, yelping in pain, and gripped her arm hard, forcing her back from him. She looked up, surprised...her expression quickly changing to horror as she saw what had made him cry out. The place where the wound had been was still glowing pink from where she kissed him, her magic having asserted its dominance over the situation, knitting together the flesh and healing it instantly. He rotated his arm back in an arc and found that he didn't even feel the pain anymore.

"Oh my god! I didn't mean to...I'm so sorry!"  
He looked up from his chest as the glow faded, giving her a sad smile.  
"Well, it seems as though your magic is every bit as stubborn as you are my love. And it also likes to have the last word."

She wanted to balk at his words and his choice of endearment, but she was still too shocked at her own actions, and tried to move back further, to get up, but he held her firmly, hook winding around her other arm. She was expecting him to start yelling at any moment, to throw her off of him. To push her away. She felt hot tears of shame slide down her cheeks as she repeated...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

"Shhh, love...none of that. You couldn't help it, could you?"  
"But, I promised you! I did that without your consent...it's terrible!"  
"That's what saviors do. You wanted to help me, to heal me...so you did. It's what you have been doing since we first met...healing me from the inside out, even against my will."

And with that he tenderly brushed the tears off her cheeks, moving his hand back and forth across her face, keeping her focused on him. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes as she took in the deeper meaning behind his words and he grasped her jaw lightly in his hand then, not letting her look away.

"Not ready for that conversation yet, I see...well, that's okay, love. We don't have to talk anymore tonight."

He leaned in slowly and placed a too sweet kiss on her lips, lingering as he touched his forehead to hers. She snaked her fingers through his hair and scratched her nails lightly on his scalp, earning a low growl. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, desperate to move past this tenderness to something she was comfortable with. She bit his lip in frustration, as if to remind him that she was capable of hurting him as well. She might be the savior, but she was no saint. She didn't want to be up on a pedestal. Not with him.

He chuckled against her mouth and his right hand shot down to the border of her jeans in answer, dipping underneath to trail along the band of her underwear, teasing her.

She placed his hand back onto his own laces as she jumped up and hastily removed her pants and underwear in one, her tank top and bra following, carelessly thrown to the side. As she moved to back to him, he suddenly grabbed her hips, pulling her into his mouth, his tongue working its way straight to her core with preternatural accuracy. She had to shoot her hands out to his shoulders to keep from falling. He made a sound of amusement when she hissed, "Sneaky pirate!" And as if responding to her statement, the point of his hook suddenly pressed into her ass in warning, showing her exactly where he wanted her to stay, scratching the skin slightly as his tongue dipped inside her again and again. She moaned loudly at the pleasure mixed with pain, at feeling in and out of control at the same time.

He feasted on her while his right hand made short work of his own pants, unlacing and loosening them. When she suddenly stilled above him, crying out his name and pulling at his hair painfully he decided that it was a sound he would never tire of. He mercilessly moved his mouth to her inner thigh and bit down, letting her feel his teeth, and she dropped into his lap lining herself up, a curse escaping her lips. Breathlessly, she rubbed against him teasingly, lifting up before he could gain any friction and smiled down at him with mischief in her eyes. He just smirked at her, and using his strength he gripped her hip to draw her down onto him, lining her up again, rubbing himself against her until he pushed in just the slightest bit. Her eyes rolled back and she gasped a greedy, "Please...", just as he thrust inside her to the hilt, holding onto her as they both tensed. "Gods Emma!"

He was straining, holding himself back from rutting into her with abandon using all of his self-control, savoring the feeling of her wrapped around him tightly, finally. She slowly began to rock back and forth, gripping his shoulders as she fell into a tortuous rhythm and he was finally spurned to reciprocate. She threw her head back a moment later when he crossed his right arm in front her, grabbing her opposite hip while the flat of his hook dug firmly into her backside and used the leverage to work her hips back and forth across him so fast and so roughly that it wasn't long before she was seeing stars again. Her breath hitched and she slowed her movements as she rode a wave of pleasure, and he took the opportunity to lean them both to the side, flipping her onto her back without breaking contact. He settled heavily between her legs as she raised her knees up. She gasped as the new angle placed a delicious pressure on her core, and she dug her nails into his ass to encourage him to continue despite already feeling overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Ummm, yes love...show me where you want me...tell me what you need..."  
"Oh...harder...please Killian! Don't stop."  
"Never." He whispered into her neck, and he slammed into her repeatedly, keeping the weight of his torso pressing down onto her, leaving no room between them as she raked her nails across his back, breaking the skin. "Emma!" He groaned as he felt her come undone again and he finally let go, his teeth sinking into her shoulder to keep from crying out again as he found his release. Using his last bit of energy he pulled out of her quickly and flipped them over again, maneuvering her so that she was laying partially across him at his right side, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, her face nuzzled into his neck.

Despite the fact that she felt bonelessly tired, she immediately lifted her arm across his torso and grabbed the leather strap that ran down his left arm to pull him closer to her, accepting it as part of him without a thought, settling his hook down behind her back, trusting him not to cut her with it. She wound her fingers down the hook, grasping it as though it were a hand and sighed contentedly.

His eyes up shot up to the ceiling as he willed his heart to slow down and let out a deep breath that he didn't realize he had been holding from the moment she reached out for his harness. He didn't realize a tear had slipped from his eye until he felt it drop from his chin onto her face. She lifted her head up at the sensation, and smiled at him so serenely that it made his heart ache, words that neither of them were ready for threatening to spill out of his parted lips.

The tips of her fingers reached up and gently stopped him as he opened his mouth and for a moment his emotions battled somewhere between frustration and relief. She rose up slightly, replacing her fingers with her mouth, kissing him softly on his lips in apology. She lingered there as their eyes locked, kissing him on his cheek where the tear had traveled and then settled her head back down onto his shoulder, closing her eyes with a smile on her lips and renewed her tight grip on his hook.

He waited until her breathing slowed down, evening out, and finally let his own eyes drift close, at peace, as both of them were claimed by sleep.


End file.
